62 - A Rocky Road, A Rocky Body

The first month taught me something I will never forget. 

How frightening it is to see a body rock back and forth, 

back and forth, 

bending at the waist, 

swinging endlessly

As if possessed by a demon 

That is how clinical depression looks. 

An endless motion, 

eyes wide open, 

but the pupils shrunk to pinholes

so small they look hollow, 

like a ghost staring through you. 

A gaze fixed on nowhere, 

empty yet piercing, 

as if the soul has already left the body. 

Muttering sounds I cannot comprehend, 

words swallowed by shadows.

Living next to someone in that condition almost broke me countless times. 

It is a devastating life to inhabit

to go to work each day 

while fearing if he will still be there when I return home.

Most people never see these scenes. 

They only glimpse depression 

when it wears its lighter disguise

the moments when someone is “slightly better,”

the only times they step outside. 

And even then, 

it looks frightening.

But what most cannot imagine is how it looks when someone is truly down, 

truly buried in the depths. 

It is haunting. 

It leaves an imprint at the back of your memory, 

a scar you carry silently.

And so I lived years fearing when he would start rocking again, 

and fearing even more the day he might snap and stop rocking at all.